the edge

the bitter edge of silence
is the taste of dead oil in my mouth
choking and smothering me
making me dream of free air
grit my teeth so hard
i fear i'll break my jaw
making the silence potent
the violence of zipped lips
now there is no eye contact
the world over your left shoulder
is more interesting than
anyfuckingthing you have to say
all this while the demons wait
as hate bubbles in the cauldron of the heart
ready to cook whatever the fuck
they can get their hands on

-----
you don't need talent if you are pissed enough.